


we fell in love in october

by wheezykaspbraks



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nonbinary Stanley Uris, Truth or Dare, Underage Drinking, he's not mentioned but georgie is very much alive, stan uses they/them uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezykaspbraks/pseuds/wheezykaspbraks
Summary: “I’m going to kiss you.” Eddie says.He’s spent years thinking about kissing him, slow and sweet; rough and desperate; angry and a little violent. He’s fallen asleep and woken up thinking about kissing him, and spent every hour in between thinking about kissing him. And somehow, in all of that time, he never considered that Richie had never been kissed before.Eddie wants more than anything to be Richie Tozier’s first kiss.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 419





	we fell in love in october

**Author's Note:**

> reddie first kiss! nonbinary stan! stanlonbrough!! underrated inter-losers friendships!!!! what more could you ask for :D
> 
> also stan girl in red thx

It’s raining outside, pouring down in a way that’s always made Eddie’s skin crawl because slick roads are a safety hazard, he _hates_ being outside when it’s raining like this. He’s not outside, though, none of them are. They’re all crowded into Bill’s room, because the days are getting colder and the Denbroughs have central heating and his room is this perfect, cozy-toasty-safe temperature that makes Eddie want to curl up and nap for a few hours.

Although, to be fair, that might be the alcohol. He always gets warm and fuzzy when he drinks, even if he isn’t necessarily _drunk_.

Richie’s phone is hooked up to the speaker on the desk, playing some quiet indie music that Eddie thinks he vaguely recognizes from hours spent in Richie’s room while they study, and sharing earphones in the hammock when no one can agree on what they want to listen to, and playlist links that Richie sends him in the middle of the night.

Bev and Stan are on the bed with their legs in each other’s laps, passing a bottle back and forth and talking about something that Eddie can’t quite make out. They’re both smiling, though, Bev more than Stan, throwing her head back with a laugh while they take a swig from their shared drink. Their nails are painted a light sky blue that looks good against their pale skin and light blonde curls, and Bev’s are painted a matching blood red. Both of them have perfectly smooth coats across every nail, endlessly pleasing to look at. Richie’s nail polish is always chipped, somehow, he paints them every week or so but they never manage to look like they’ve just been given a fresh coat.

Bill’s spinning in the chair at his desk, giggling to himself because he’s a lightweight who gets fun and bubbly when he drinks. His face is pink, and there’s a stain on the front of his shirt from where he spilled his drink earlier. The thought of it, wet clothes clinging to his skin, makes Eddie cringe. Bill doesn’t seem to mind, though, shrieking with laughter every time Mike reaches over from his place on the floor with Ben to spin him faster, and they all end up pausing in their conversations to watch their friend desperately try to stay on the chair as it wobbles precariously.

Eddie himself is on the floor like a normal person, a half-empty bottle in front of him that Richie almost tips over as he situates himself upside down against the door, long legs stretching up towards the ceiling while he reaches his arms out across the carpet to Eddie, fingers wiggling.

Eddie gives him A Look at he shifts the drink out of his grasp. Richie pouts, whining, “ _Eds,_ ” in that high-pitched voice he uses when he doesn’t get what he wants.

Bev laughs when she sees Eddie stick his tongue out at Richie.

“Hey,” Bill says suddenly, sticking his foot out to stop himself from spinning. He wobbles for a moment before he manages to keep his balance. “Hey, let’s play t-truth or dare.”

Mike and Bev boo him, Stan shakes their head like they’re disappointed in him, Ben nods while Richie eagerly fist-pumps with both arms thrust into the air. Eddie just kind of cringes because they’re all eighteen (almost, just a little over a month, he’ll never not be bitter about the fact that his birthday is so late in the year) and they’re way too old to be playing truth or dare.

There’s also the fact that Richie always gets _way_ too into it, especially when he rocks up at one of their places with his arms full of alcohol that his older sister bought for them, usually as a bribe to get him out of the house while she has her boyfriend over. Drunk Richie is a lot to handle on its own — cute, but a _lot._ Drunk Richie playing truth or dare is a whole other level of splitting-headache as Eddie tries his best to stop Richie from seeing if he can make the jump from Ben’s bedroom window to the pool in the backyard, which, spoiler, there’s no fucking way he could.

Eddie frantically calculates — him, Mike, Bev and Stan against Bill, Richie and Ben, majority rules. He takes a smug sip from his drink, knowing that there won’t be any truth or dare tonight. And then Bev laughs and says, “Only if I get to start!” and Stan’s got this amused little smile that means that they’re in, and Mike throws his legs over Ben’s lap to get more comfortable, drink cradled between his hands.

Eddie’s protest gets drowned out by Richie’s whoop of delight.

Bev picks Ben first — of course she does, she always does, it’s been tradition for years — and like always, he chooses truth. Richie cackles when Ben buries his pink face in his hands and admits that New Kids on the Block is his favorite band, as if it hadn’t been abundantly clear by the poster he’d left on the back of his door despite Richie’s merciless teasing about it.

Ben chooses Bill, whose dare is relatively tame; he desperately tries to lick his own elbow, eventually collapsing on the floor in a giggling heap.

Bill points a finger at Stan, who rolls their eyes even as they lean across to press a smacking kiss to Bev’s cheek. She glows under the attention, eternally pleased with any affection from her friends. Not that Eddie can judge, or anything, he gets the same way. Stan gives out affection the least, isn’t as open with casual hand holding and spooning and cheek-kissing as the rest of them. They still smile at Bev as they pull away, though, throw in a subtle little wink that makes her laugh.

Mike fiddles with the label on his drink as he says that Bill and Stan are his favorites of the group (Richie cries _betrayal_ but they all know what he means, Eddie sees the way that Mike shyly flits a glance at Bill’s dopey smile, the way that Bill blows a lazy kiss in his direction with a wink that ends up being more of a blink, the way Stan ducks their head with pink cheeks when Bill turns to blow a kiss their way as well).

Eddie jolts when Mike calls his name, sitting up straighter. He chooses truth because, duh. He ends up burying his face in his knees and groans his way through the story of his first crush; a boy with curly hair who was always mean to, like, _everyone_ , which was apparently something that ten-year-old Eddie liked. Richie interrupts halfway through with a shrill, “Fourth grade _Josh_?” like it’s the worst news he’s ever heard. Eddie is confused for a moment. Then he remembers _why_ he stopped liking Fourth Grade Josh, after he made fun of Richie’s brand-new glasses (blue, with a cute little orange fish on each arm, Richie had been _so excited_ to show them off, and Eddie had been excited because a happy Richie was his _favorite_ Richie).

And back then, Richie wasn’t as tough as he is now, he was still soft and bright-eyed and eager to go to school in the mornings, cute messy curls and freckled cheeks and gap-toothed smile, at least one shoelace always untied. Eddie had seen Fourth Grade Josh make Bright As Sunshine Richie shrink into himself and felt more fury than his tiny body could contain. That was the first day he ever got sent home from school for fighting with another student. His mother had cried and fretted over the bruise on his cheek, but Richie had said it was the _coolest thing ever!_ , and Josh had a pretty nasty bruise of his own the next day, so it had been more than worth it.

He doesn’t tell any of them that, though, sticks his tongue out at Richie and teases, “Jealous of Fourth Grade Josh?” instead because it’s easier than admitting that he’s been in love with Richie since basically forever. Richie sticks his tongue right back out. It’s easy, it’s simple, it’s EddieandRichie, it makes him want to grab Richie and kiss his entire fucking adorable face.

Eddie clears his throat and turns to Stan, who’s squinting into the opening of their almost-empty bottle like that could help refill it. “Stanley,” that gets their attention. “Truth or dare?”

They tilt their head consideringly. “Truth.”

Eddie grins. Stan gives him a weary look. Before they can change their mind, Eddie says, “If you could date anyone in the group, who would it be?”

The weary look turns into one of horror. And, see, they _could_ lie, except for how they can’t. Because the losers are _fucking hardcore_ (as Richie puts it, usually with a hand signal that Eddie doesn’t fucking understand but Bev apparently does because she always does it right back to him) and there are _punishments_ for lying or dipping out of dares. The last time Bill got caught in a lie, he had to shamefully explain at school the next day why he only had one eyebrow, and why Richie looked so smug about it.

Eddie grins and tips his bottle at them. Stan grits out, “Mike and Bill, you asshole.” as they throw back the last of their own drink. Bill all but falls over himself laughing, back on the chair and clinging to it so he doesn’t topple to the floor again, giggling as he says, “I thought we were already dating!” Mike blushes so hard that he buries his face in his hands while Bill laughs to himself and spins some more. And Stan — Stan’s bright red and they look sort of pleased, in this totally pissed off way that makes Eddie laugh. The three of them have been dancing around their feelings for _years_ , now it’s finally fucking out there and they can do something about it.

“Richie,” Stan says, and Eddie stops laughing very suddenly. Richie shouts, “Finally!” with this cute little upside-down wriggle, and Eddie is both terrified and hopelessly endeared.

“Truth or dare?”

Richie, because he’s Richie, chooses dare. Eddie knows Stan well enough to know that truth wouldn’t have been any less terrifying.

Stan says, “Kiss Eddie.” and Eddie wonders how upset the Denbroughs would be if he set their house on fire. Not _that_ upset, right?

Bev suddenly chokes on her drink, croaking out, “Wait, what?” and Stan absently pats at her foot in their lap, staring directly at Eddie, except Eddie can’t look away from Richie as he flips over and crawls towards him. Eddie’s heart is in his fucking throat, watching pink-flushed Richie attempt to seductively crawl his way over. It’s stupid and the least sexy thing he’s ever seen and he’s so fucking in love it hurts.

The whole time Richie shifts closer, Eddie desperately thinks to himself _say no say no say no tell him to get fucked he’s gonna know if he kisses you he’ll know how long you’ve wanted this say no any punishment is better than this._ And then their knees are brushing, and Richie says, “Hey.” with this teasing little smile. “I get it if you don’t wanna kiss me, I’m pretty fucking awesome, it’s a lot to live up to for a total prude.”

And then that panic is gone because seriously, fuck Richie Tozier. “Just kiss me, you dick.” he seethes, and Richie beams. He has enough time to think a frantic _wait hold up_ before Richie ducks in to kiss him. It’s a little awkward, the angle is off and Richie’s glasses press against both of their faces uncomfortably and Richie’s got his lips puckered a little strangely, but it still makes Eddie’s face burn with how much he likes it.

Contrary to popular belief, Eddie’s been kissed before — Stan a few times when they were younger and both trying to figure themselves out, some random boy at the school dance last year who called him pretty and used too much spit and tongue, a guy at sleepaway camp over the summer who kissed him behind a tree next to the lake and made his knees go weak, that one girl last month who’d shyly told him after class that she liked him and laid one on him before he could reply and then called him a dick when he said that he wasn’t interested.

Richie is bright red when he pulls away, adjusting his glasses — plain black, slightly thinner frames than when he was younger, still a little too big for his face but in an endearing way.

Eddie blinks, once, twice. “Richie, was that — was that your first kiss?”

“What? No. No! No, that’s no — I was just kissing your mom this morning, of course that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The thing is, Richie’s always been _such_ a bad liar. It’s endlessly cute.

Eddie raises his eyebrows a little. “You kiss my mom like that?”

Richie bristles, shoulders up around his ears as he glances away and fiddles with the arm of his glasses again, a nervous tic he’s had ever since the end of fourth grade. And suddenly, Eddie wants more than anything to be Richie Tozier’s first kiss.

Eddie slides his hand around the back of Richie’s neck and uses the other to take off those glasses. Richie blinks, hard and fast for a moment, giving a nervous little laugh because he’s always felt vulnerable without them. Eddie wants him to know that it’s okay to be vulnerable, when it’s the two of them. He sets the glasses aside, folded neatly right next to Richie’s legs, easy to grab if he panics and needs them.

“I’m going to kiss you.” Eddie says. Richie nods, a little bobble head-esque, wide-eyed, even as he says _kissing both Kaspbraks in one day, go me_. Eddie rolls his eyes and uses the hand on his neck to draw him down. He kisses the corner of his mouth, brushes their noses together, smiles at the shaky little breath Richie exhales. Richie freezes all over and makes a flustered sound low in his throat when Eddie slots their lips together, gentle and easy and feeling a new kind of warmth at how nervous Richie is. He’s spent years thinking about kissing him, slow and sweet; rough and desperate; angry and a little violent, as things so often are between the two of them. He’s fallen asleep and woken up thinking about kissing him, and spent every hour in between thinking about kissing him. And somehow, in all of that time, he never considered that Richie had never been kissed before.

It had seemed obvious — excessive bragging aside, he was _Richie Tozier_ , who _didn’t_ want to kiss him? Surely someone would have done it.

His chest fucking burns, bright and sharp for a moment, because he’s the only person who knows how soft Richie’s hair feels under the tips of his fingers, and how his eyelashes feel brushing his cheek, and how he tastes a lot like the alcohol they’ve all been drinking all night but also a lot like the sugary sweet cereal he eats every morning, and a little like the smoke that always clings to his clothes. It should be gross, Eddie fucking hates cigarettes, but there’s nothing more comforting than when Richie spends the night squeezed into bed with him and Eddie realizes the next day that his pillow smells like his cigarettes and the cheap cologne that Richie always buys.

Richie fumbles with his hands for a moment, settles one clutching at his own jeans and the other on Eddie’s thigh, warm even through the material of his shorts. Eddie tilts Richie’s head with a hand on the curve of his jaw, curls his toes inside his shoes when he feels Richie’s shaky breath against his mouth. Richie scratches blunt nails against the fabric of his shorts when Eddie licks at his mouth, a little hesitant, until Richie seems to understand and parts his lips. His cheek is warm under the gentle pressure of Eddie’s hand.

The sound he makes, surprisingly high and breathy, when Eddie licks into his mouth, is about a thousand times hotter than it has any right to be. And the way he gasps, both hands shooting out to clutch at the hem of Eddie’s sweater when he bites at his lower lip, makes Eddie feel like he’s burning up all over. His chest hitches, just a little, under where Eddie’s palm is pressed flat over his chest, a sharp little gasp into Eddie’s mouth. It’s followed by a noise that can only be classified as a _whine_ , as Eddie swipes his tongue over the gentle indents that his teeth left behind in the swell of his bottom lip.

The first hesitant touch of Richie’s tongue to his lip makes him groan, and Richie surges forward against him, hands a little feverish as they sweep over his chest, his sides, his back, clumsily licking into his mouth, a little too much spit but endlessly hot in his enthusiasm. A hand rakes into his hair, catching and tugging desperately, as their tongues brush. It’s hot and wet and messy and Eddie should hate it, he should be thinking about germs and bacteria and how fucking unsanitary it is to be doing this when he doesn’t know exactly where Richie’s trashmouth has been. Eddie really, _really_ doesn’t hate it. He just wishes that this wasn’t happening in front of their friends, which, wait fuck hold up.

Eddie soothes Richie’s desperate excitement with a sweeping thumb over his cheekbone, kisses at his lower lip sweet enough that Richie makes another one of those breathy little noises. It makes Eddie want to lean back in, spend the rest of forever hearing those sounds. He takes a shuddery breath and presses a final kiss, closed-mouthed, against the spit-slick warmth of his lips.

It was just a kiss, and Richie looks fucking _wrecked._ He sways after him as Eddie leans away, pink-cheeked and panting just a little, fluttering open pretty blue eyes to reveal blown-out pupils. The tips of his ears are red, his mouth shiny, his hair somehow messier than usual despite the fact that Eddie didn’t move his hand from absently playing with the curls at the base of his neck.

Eddie groans, leaning in again to press a quick kiss to his parted lips, has to pull away again before he gets caught up in the breathy little pant Richie gives as he presses into it.

“Holy shit,” Bev suddenly whistles, “Fucking _finally_.”

Richie goes red as he fumbles for his glasses, sliding them back on. Eddie clears his throat but his voice still comes out lower, _rougher_ , than usual when he dares Ben to perform all of Bohemian Rhapsody, accompanied only by Mike’s half-assed a capella-ing in the background.

Eddie subtly reaches out to hold Richie’s hand while Ben and Mike get caught up fumbling over _scaramouche_ s and end up arguing over what a Fandango is.

Richie leans over to whisper, “It’s a dance for couples.” in Eddie’s ear, and Eddie takes the opportunity to press into his side, hands clasped between them. Their palms are both a little sweaty, but Eddie kind of never wants to not be holding his hand.

Eddie whispers back, “Are you asking me to Fandango with you, Tozier?” and Richie goes red even as he leers and makes a shitty joke about how he would let Eddie _fandango_ him any day. 

Mike and Ben end up collapsed against each other with laughter, and Mike throws the next question to Stan, even though it was technically Ben’s turn, but no one protests so Eddie lets it go. Stan chooses truth, and tells them all about the time that their mom put butterfly clips in their hair when they were a kid. They also firmly refuse to ever show photos, which only results in Richie stage-whispering _there are photos_ with clear delight in his voice, and Eddie laughs because he knows that Richie will have his hands on said photos by the end of the week.

Richie clearly knows it too, and winks at Eddie as he says, “Don’t worry, Eds, you’ll be the first person I show.” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Eddie presses a kiss to his cheek, and watches Bill attempt to drunkenly serenade a laughing Stan as Richie makes one of those pleased little sounds. Eddie smiles to himself and thinks that he can’t wait to find out every sound Richie is capable of making.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos keep me alive and writing '3'


End file.
